


The Swan Stripper (Alternate Version)

by Hookedonapirate



Series: The Swan Stripper [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, Stripper!Emma, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 07:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19268482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hookedonapirate/pseuds/Hookedonapirate
Summary: Emma Swan is a single mom trying to make ends meet and provide for her ten-year-old son. Which is why she became a stripper. This was not the plan she had envisioned when she found out she was pregnant, but not everything in life goes as planned. Just like she hadn't planned on sleeping with one of her clients after giving him a lap dance. She also wasn't planning on running into said client outside of work. She certainly wasn't expecting him to be her son's teacher.





	The Swan Stripper (Alternate Version)

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternate sequel to The Swan Stripper. You don't necessarily have to read Part 1 first because you can get a pretty good idea of what happened in the first chapter from this part, but I guess it depends on whether you mind reading smut or not. Chapter 1 is very smutty, this one is not so much. The proceeding chapters of Chapter 1 Part 1 is a different version of this universe and you're free to read that one too if you'd like.
> 
> So, the reason why I wrote this alternate version was that I had 2 scenarios in my head about how I wanted to continue this story. I was unable to ignore the two possible scenarios and wanted to experiment and write both out. Turns out I loved both scenarios and everyone I've talked to about this has told me to go for both versions, so here is the alternate version. With that being said, the other version will be mostly the same, except for the last 1/3rd of the chapter, where I throw in a different twist. There're both similar tropes I suppose, but this one's less taboo than the other. There will be a continuation chapter for each scenario or maybe more if the muse is up to it.

Emma hastily tugs on her boots and grabs her jacket, quietly sneaking through the bedroom door before shutting it with a soft click. Silent steps are a lost cause as she walks carefully over the floor, the wood panels creaking underneath her feet. With her jacket dangling in her hand, she manages to leave the apartment without making too much noise, shutting the front door behind her. She tugs her jacket on, pulling her hair from underneath the squeaky leather fabric and letting it fall down her back. She practically runs down the three flights of stairs to discourage any thoughts of going back.

 

As she pushes past the door, a rush of frigid air hits her face, instantly sending shivers down Emma's spine, and her nipples stiffen beneath her cotton bra. Her steps are languid but quick, as she makes her way across the lawn and reaches her destination in the parking lot before the sun starts to rise. She can still feel Killian's touch on every inch of her skin, she can still smell his cologne and taste him on her lips, her body still buzzing with delight, despite the chill of the air.

 

Emma grabs her helmet, pulls it on and hops on her motorcycle before looking back at the apartment building. A pang of regret courses through her, and somehow, it's not because of her evening with her ridiculously handsome client, but because she's doing what she does best—running away.

 

Zooming out of the parking lot, she heads back home with an ache inside her, and not just the satisfied one settled in her core.

 

Entering the small, two bedroom apartment in the same fashion she had left the handsome stranger’s house—is he a stranger, though, if she knows his name and fucked his brains out?

 

Her friend, Mary Margaret, is passed out on the couch with the glow of the TV as the only source of light. Emma glances at the clock; it’s just past five in the morning. Normally Emma is home by two at the latest because she chooses her own hours since she’s an independent contractor, not an employee, but obviously, tonight was different because of one British man in particular. The thought of him instantly makes her tremble… in the best way possible, her skin still tingling from his touch.

 

Emma tugs off her boots, quietly sneaks across the carpeted floor and deposits her keys on the kitchen table, which is cluttered with a stack of textbooks, a backpack and an open laptop.

 

“Crap,” Emma mutters under her breath. She'd completely forgotten today is Henry’s first day of Middle School and her first day of college. Emma screws her eyes shut in regret. How the fuck did these things slip her mind?

 

Emma opens her eyes and sighs as she closes the MacBook and heads down the hall, quietly approaching the door which is plastered with an Avengers poster. The guilt creeps up inside her, a large lump forming in her throat as she slowly cracks open the door. She had really screwed up. Lonely stripper and single mom throwing herself at the first handsome man she actually may have feelings for when she was supposed to be getting rest so she could take her son to school and start taking classes to finally improve their situation for good. Instead, she had fucked some stranger because he was gorgeous and had an accent that made her melt. What was she thinking?

 

Stepping inside her son's room to check on him, she can hear him breathing softly as he sleeps. She walks over quietly and drops a kiss to his temple, running a hand through his hair as she watches him admiringly for a few moments before leaving his room. Gently shutting the door with a soft click, Emma traipses down the hall toward the living room again.

 

“You’re home late.”

 

The sleep laden voice startles Emma and she places a hand to her heart and sighs in relief when she realizes it’s only Mary Margaret.

 

“Later than normal, I mean,” the pixy cut brunette adds, speaking through a big yawn as she stretches her limbs.

 

“Oh… uh yeah… sorry, I just…” Emma stammers, not knowing how to respond. “I wasn't expecting to be out so late.” She bites her bottom lip, hoping Mary Margaret isn’t too pissed at her. She wasn't expecting her friend to be awake yet; whenever Mary Margaret comes over to babysit, she spends the night on the couch and returns to her place in the morning, which isn't too far, considering they're next door neighbors. Emma also wasn't expecting to fuck one of her clients, nor was she expecting to fall asleep in his bed afterward.

 

Mary Margaret waves off her words as she sits up. “Please, don't apologize, you know I don't mind sleeping over. I'm just curious as to where you were, at this hour.” She reaches over the end table and switches on the lamp, her lips curving into a slow simper as she pats the cushion next to her.

 

Emma walks over, taking a seat and reclining back, trying to seem nonchalant as she gives Mary Margaret a lame excuse. “I was hungry so I stopped at the diner to grab a bite to eat.”

 

“And it took you all night?” Mary Margaret questions with a raised brow, scrutinizing her friend skeptically. “Were you eating all the food in the diner?”

 

Emma sighs in exasperation, and in all honesty, she’s too tired to argue with anyone right now. “Fine, I stopped at a friend’s house, okay?”

 

Mary Margaret’s eyebrows raise higher toward her hairline. “A friend’s house? At two in the morning?”

 

“No, actually I got out at midnight. Remember I was leaving early since school starts today?” Emma asks. She herself obviously hadn’t remembered why she originally had wanted to leave early because she was anxious to get to Killian’s house. She stands up and tries to escape to the kitchen to grab something to eat before she crawls into bed to get a couple of hours of shut-eye and has to take Henry to school, but the sound of Mary Margaret's voice draws her back.

 

“Oh no, you’re not going to leave me hanging,” Mary Margaret chides her. “Who is he?”

 

_Dammit._

 

Why does her friend have to be so perceptive? Perhaps Emma has rubbed off on her a bit. It's bad enough she's rubbed off on her son. He is the most perceptive kid she knows.

 

Emma spins around, sighing once more. “He’s a friend I met at work.”

 

Mary Margaret nods, seeming to accept her answer. “Sooooo, he’s a client you slept with after you gave him a private dance…” she conjectures with a sly smirk.

 

“How did you—” Emma begins to ask, but pauses and stares at her friend with a dropped jaw, completely dumbfounded.

 

“Emma, come on, I’ve known you for three years, you don’t have any friends, besides me.”

 

Emma frowns at Mary Margaret for the brutal reminder of that fact and grumbles in frustration. “Fine, I slept with one of my clients... which I have never done before… I had one night of self-indulgence for the first time in ten years. Is that a crime?”

 

Mary Margaret stands from the couch, shaking her head as she walks toward her. “Of course not, I’m not judging you, Em, you know I never would. In fact, I am all for you doing something for _Emma_ once in a while. Lord knows you deserve it. I just don't know why you have to keep it from me.”

 

Emma's eyes flicker with apology, casting toward the floor in shame as she fidgets with her fingers. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired and didn’t really want to have a discussion about it at five in the morning. I have to get Henry ready for school soon.”

 

Mary Margaret approaches her, placing her hands on Emma’s shoulders, causing Emma to lift her eyes. “Let me take him, you need to get some rest.”

 

Emma shakes her head. “No, that’s okay, I want to take Henry to school, especially since it's his first day of Middle School. I don’t like to miss bonding time with my son.”

 

“Yes, but you’re tired, I’m guessing you didn’t get any sleep at your _friend’s_ house?” she inquires with a smirk.

 

Emma offers a small smile in return, blush coloring her cheeks. “I got a few hours.”

 

Mary Margaret lifts her brows, hazel eyes buzzing with curiosity. “So, you just got up and left while he was still sleeping?”

 

Emma nods. “I really didn’t want to have the awkward morning-after conversation and have to tell him I can’t see him again if he asks for my number.”

 

Confusion washes over Mary Margaret’s features as Emma turns and walks away, attempting her trek to the kitchen once more. Her friend follows her, though, leaning against the archway of the kitchen with her arms crossed over her chest as Emma opens the refrigerator, looking for something to eat. “And why can't you see him again?”

 

Emma sighs, and not only at Mary Margaret’s insistence to poke her until she cracks and spills what her friend most likely already suspects, but also at the fact that even though Emma’s hungry, nothing really sounds appetizing to her. She closes the refrigerator door with a huff, turning to look at Mary Margaret with her hand still gripping the handle of the fridge. “Well, for one, he’s a customer. It’s my number one rule, I don’t date customers, I shouldn’t have even slept with him.”

 

“But why is it a rule? You’re an independent contractor, so it's not like you can get fired for it.”

 

Emma narrows her eyes, releasing the handle and planting her hands on her hips. “Let me ask you something, do you sleep with your clients?"

 

“No, but I work in insurance,” Mary Margaret answers, confused by the question.

 

“What difference does it make what you do for a living? You flirt with clients to get business don't you?"

 

“Well yeah… but that doesn't mean I want to sleep with them.”

 

“Then why should I want to sleep with my clients? Just because I'm friendly and flirty with them doesn't mean I want to sleep with them. Most of the men who pay good money are there because they’re lonely and can't get action elsewhere. Those are not men who make my job fun or enjoyable. Killian was the exception, the one out of a million clients I've danced for. I put the rule in place, not because the urge to sleep with my clients is too tempting, but because it keeps me from getting attached to anyone. It keeps me from getting hurt.”

 

Mary Margaret nods and gives Emma a knowing smile. “You're just protecting yourself.”

 

“It’s not just about protecting myself, it’s about protecting _Henry_ ," she retorts defensively. “Besides, our life is good the way it is, why add a guy to the mix?”

 

“Because you might be happy?”

 

The statement hits Emma like a ton of bricks, making her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. “I _am_ happy,” she claims. But who is she kidding? Henry makes her happy of course, but she’s always felt like there was something missing in her life. In _their_ lives.

 

“You know, Emma, that wall of yours… it _may_ keep out pain,” Mary Margaret shrugs, tilting her head, “but it also may keep out love.”

 

Emma stares at her friend, not knowing quite how to respond. Instead, she goes to the pantry trying not to admit her friend is right.

 

“Okay, well… was he good in bed at least?”

 

Emma instantly blushes at the question, a smile overtaking her lips as her eyes scan over her options on the pantry shelves.

 

“So, that’s a yes?”

 

It’s a _hell yes,_  but Emma can’t tell her friend that. “It was fine," she answers nonchalantly, grabbing a pack of cinnamon pop tarts from the box.

 

“Oh, come on, Em, who are you trying to fool? Just tell me.”

 

Emma sighs and closes the pantry door. “He’s handsome and has a British accent...” she grins from ear to ear, her cheeks radiating with heat as she strides over to the toaster, “and frankly, he's the best sex I ever had,” she confesses honestly, shooting Mary Margaret a glance. “Happy now?”

 

Mary Margaret grins and nods. “Yep, that's all I needed to know.”

 

Except it’s not, and they both know it.

 

Emma rolls her eyes warms up the pop tarts in the toaster, sharing one with Mary Margaret and munching on the cinnamon flavored pastry while indulging Mary Margaret with more details about her night with the handsome Brit.

 

After Mary Margaret leaves, Emma is able to nap in her own bed for about an hour before she’s being shaken awake by her ten-year-old son.

 

“Mom, it's time to get up.”

 

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she slowly opens her eyes, seeing Henry standing there in his school clothes, his teeth brushed and hair combed.

 

Emma groans and looks at her alarm clock. It’s 7 am. She must’ve shut her alarm off and fell back asleep. “I’m up, kid.” She pushes herself out of bed, and he leaves to let her get dressed. She throws on some clothes before starting some coffee and making breakfast, both of them eating at the breakfast table. She hopes he doesn't suspect anything about last night. She hopes he doesn’t know how late she’d returned home, and if he does, thankfully he doesn't say anything about it.

 

Emma grabs her keys and purse, and takes Henry to school in her yellow bug. She'd prefer her bike because it's not a painful reminder of the man she had lost and how they had met, but she'd get chastised by judgy parents for showing up to school on a motorcycle with her son. They'd say it's too dangerous and say she's a bad mom; if only they knew what she does for a living, then they'd really give her an earful. It's why she always shows up to the strip club on her motorcycle rather than in her yellow bug—so no one recognizes the vehicle as Henry's Mom's and wonders why she's there.

 

Her son knows what she does for a living, she’d brought him to work when he was younger, and Ruby and the other dancers had watched him in the dressing room while Emma danced. It’s not an ideal job, but it pays the bills. It’s definitely better than dragging her son from one homeless shelter to another like she had done after Henry was born, when she was living on the streets.

 

She had been working late one night when his father had died in a fire that destroyed the small house they had struggled to afford. They had no home insurance, so Emma was only left with a big hole in her heart and a baby growing inside her belly. At the time, she thought about giving her son up for adoption, but honestly, keeping him was the best decision she’s ever made. And since she did, it certainly hasn’t been easy, but she has never once regretted it.

 

She would do absolutely anything to make sure he always has a roof over his head (and not the hood of her Volkswagen), hot meals served to him at the kitchen table and a warm bed to crawl into at night. Her job as an exotic dancer allows her to provide all of those things and more for her son, so she is not ashamed of what she does, nor will she apologize for it. Besides, she is hoping to get something better in the future, which is why she's starting college today.

 

“Have fun on your first day of Middle School, kid,” Emma tells him as she pulls up in front of the school and ruffles a hand through his curly brown hair.

 

“I’ll try, thanks, Mom. Have fun on your first day of college.” He leans over and kisses her cheek. “Get some more sleep before your class, you look tired.”

 

Emma smiles at him sweetly. “Good to know, thanks,” she laughs, dropping a kiss to his forehead. “Love you, kid.”

 

“Love you too, Mom.”

 

Emma watches him as he catches up with two of his buddies and walks in with them before she pulls away. She contemplates trying to get some more sleep, but instead, she goes home and takes a well-needed shower, washing the night away while trying not to think about the hot British man and their steamy night of passion. But she fails miserably, because _God,_  she wants to be with him again, wants him inside her again, ramming his gorgeous cock inside her over and over again until she’s pleading and panting as he fucks her into oblivion.

 

She shudders, the memories of how he'd felt inside of her flooding her mind. She swears the man literally came from her fantasies. She just couldn't resist him after she had seen him in the private room sitting before her in that chair, waiting for her with lust filled eyes. Then she had straddled his lap, dry humping him into the next dimension. She had stopped before things had gone too far, but all of her ambitions had gone out the window the next night when he had kissed her breasts. She had kissed him back and allowed him to touch her, which is something rare; she never lets any of her customers put their hands on her. But she had felt a connection between them which was more than physical. He had lost his wife, which hit her hard emotionally because she too had lost someone. She had lost her boyfriend and Henry's father.

 

The experience in the private room with Killian had been otherworldly. She had never experienced pleasure like that before, and they hadn’t even had sex at that point. Just the feel of his hard cock through his pants and his fingers deep in her cunt, while she rode him, was enough to give her mind-numbing pleasure.

 

She bites her bottom lip, feeling the familiar heat building up inside her. Emma cannot resist the temptation any longer and slips her fingers between her thighs while her other hand strokes her breasts, making her nipples stiffen under her touch. His name pours from her lips as she comes fast and _hard_ in her hand.

 

~*~

 

The next day, Emma drops off Henry at school again, and after she plants a kiss on his cheek, ruffles his hair and they say their goodbyes, he hops out of the car and hurries inside the school. Before she pulls away, Emma looks down at the empty seat beside her and sees his notebook that reads in bold, black letters, _English Class_. He had come home yesterday so excited about his first day of school, especially seeing his friends again. He’d been anxious to go back. Henry is a very bright kid and he already has his mind set on becoming a writer some day. He loves to read and write, and had said his English teacher seems really cool and they enjoy reading the same books. Thinking Henry will probably need his notes, she parks her car, grabs the notebook and goes inside to bring it to him. After she goes to the office to find out what room he’s in, she walks down the hall as the bell rings and kids scramble inside their classrooms. Emma doesn’t wish to embarrass him, so she’ll just hand his notebook to the teacher and leave.

 

She finds the room he’s in and peers through the narrow window of the door. She immediately spots her son and smiles as he chats with his friends. He looks so happy, it makes her heart soar. She loves seeing her boy happy, it’s her number one goal in life.

 

She softly knocks on the door, and when it opens seconds later, the view of her son is blocked by a figure standing in front of her—a figure that makes Emma’s heart stop.

 

She has to blink several times, sure that she’s seeing things because there is no way Henry’s English teacher is…

 

_Oh fuck._

 

Emma has to keep her jaw from hitting the floor as she gapes at the man in pure shock. He is the same man who had visited the strip club. The same man she had given a lap dance. The same man who had given her several orgasms the other night, and who’s been in her head ever since, who’s been inside _her._

 

“Emma?” He barely gets the word out, and she’s pretty sure he’s wearing the exact same expression she is. His mouth is gaping open, his eyes twinkling as she blushes under his gaze.

 

She grows warm just staring at him, and as much as she hates to admit it, he’s had an effect on her, and she is scared to act on her feelings for him again, afraid what it might turn into. But really, this whole situation is a blessing in disguise since it's probably frowned upon for teachers to sleep with their students’ parents.

 

Killian—Mr. Jones looks back and sees the children busy in conversation, so he steps outside the classroom, shutting the door behind him. When he closes the distance between them, the smell of his cologne wafts over her, and the desire sparks in his eyes when he looks at her, making her skin hot, and in a matter of no time, she is musing how fantastic it would be for the two of them to be alone again and for him to fuck her on his desk. But she knows she has to stop thinking like that. He is Henry’s teacher for crying out loud!

 

“Don’t take this the wrong way…” he says with a bashful smile as he scratches behind his ear, “I’m glad to see you, love, but how do you know where I work?”

 

Emma has to snap out of the stupor she’s in to answer his question. And of course, he would think her reason for being there is because of him. So typical. She has to refrain from rolling her eyes. “I didn’t,” she snaps in a harsher tone than she’d intended. “I’m Henry’s mother.” She holds up his notebook. “He left this in the car, so I came to bring it to him.”

 

Killian’s eyes widen even more, if it’s possible, trying to process all of this as she tries to do the same. “You’re… you’re Henry’s mother?” He mulls on that for a moment and furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “But his last name is Cassidy...”

 

“Yes, it is.”

 

Killian nods, appearing to be a bit irritated. “So you’re last name isn’t actually Swan? I should've known better,” he sighs.

 

“Cassidy is his father's name,” Emma clarifies. "Not mine."

 

His face clouds with apology and perhaps a hint of disappointment, and that's when Emma realizes her mistake.

 

“It's not what you think…” she says softly, shaking her head. “His father died in a fire before Henry was born, so I gave him his last name. It's the only thing he has of his father's.”

 

Knowing all too well what it's like to lose a loved one, his eyes soften as he glances briefly at the floor. “I'm sorry, love.” He swallows thickly, his eyes meeting hers again, and the intensity of his stare causes her breath to hitch. “Why didn't you tell me you had a son?”

 

“Well, to be fair, you didn't tell me you were a teacher,” she points out and lowers her voice so no one can hear. “If I recall we were both too busy fucking each other’s brains out to get to know each other.”

 

Killian blushes profusely, a smile creeping over his lips. Emma shouldn't find him to be completely adorable, but she does. “Sorry, love, I’m just surprised at this rather interesting turn of events.”

 

“Yeah,” Emma scoffs in amusement, “you and me both.”

 

Killian chuckles, and the air around them becomes more comfortable as he changes the subject. “You must be very proud of him. I’ve only just met Henry yesterday, but I can already tell he’s a very bright young lad.”

 

Emma nods. “Yes, I’m very proud of him.” Her eyes lock with Killian’s, and the tension between them resurfaces as she stands only inches away from him. What she wouldn’t give to kiss those luscious lips again, what she wouldn’t give to…

 

Emma squeezes her eyes shut, immediately shutting down those thoughts and the path they were leading to. She raises the notebook again. “I have to go, can you just give this to him, please?”

 

“Of course, love.”

 

“Thank you.” Emma hands him the notebook, trying to ignore the way his breath catches and the way her heart stutters when his fingers brush along hers.

 

Killian leans into her space, speaking quietly in her ear. “The pleasure’s all mine, love.”

 

Emma trembles, her face flushed, and she has to muster every ounce of strength to lift her feet off the floor one after the other and walk away from him with a baffled look on her face. Of all the men she’d chosen to sleep with, she had to pick Henry’s teacher?

 

_You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!_

 

No longer distracted by his dangerous good looks as she flees from the school as fast as she possibly can, she makes up her mind and decides she does not want or need a man in her life, nor does she have time for one. She needs to take care of her son, she needs to focus on school and she needs to do those things without distractions. For the first time in her life, she decides not to run and to instead face her challenges head-on. She will not let some English teacher keep her from doing what she needs to do to achieve her goals. She will not let him distract her. No matter how pretty he is, how much he has already affected her or how good he is in bed.

 

She and Henry are in a good place, _finally_. They don’t need anyone else in their lives right now. Stripping is already a heavy secret for Henry to have weighing on his shoulders. She certainly can’t tell her son about her and his teacher if she and Killian ever became a thing.

 

Henry is too much of a priority. No matter how much she longs for someone else in her life, she has to admit to herself that she just doesn't have the room for it. There is a huge void in her heart, sure, but she shares her heart with her son, and right now he is enough to fill that void as long as he is happy and healthy. That's all that matters to her.

 

Emma gets in her yellow bug and peels out of the parking lot. _Tomorrow,_ she thinks to herself. Tomorrow she will go back to the school, march into his room and set the record straight. Their relationship, or whatever it was, can go no further than what has happened so far. He was a one-time thing and now he is Henry's teacher and nothing more. That's all he can be to her. No matter how much she craves for more.

 


End file.
